Like many tyrannical lunatics, San Rafael Tor isn’t quite what you’d expect. I’ve interviewed a number of political leaders in the past, and most have had a greater maniacal presence than this vertically challenged weirdo.
But what San Rafael Tor has in common with practically all leaders I’ve met is that they all love to yap. They’re all, deep down, spectacularly insecure, pathetic creatures. In this regard, San Rafael Tor is up there among the most wretched, power hungry dopes I’ve known. Still, it never fails to surprise me how these individuals manage to hold power as they do.
Nevertheless, with weapons aimed at me, thugs giving me the death stare, I was soon to learn about the ‘great’, little leaders ‘big’ ideas.
To cut the silence, I put on my journalistic cap and fired off the first question…laser pad poised.
“Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, San Rafael Tor," at this they all laughed. He raised a small hand and signaled for quiet. This was his chance to be heard and he was going to take full advantage.
“Come on. Time is wasting. Places to rob, people to kill…Continue Quigg.” he sneered.
“My first question is one I hear everyone asking. And that is: what is it you want, San Rafael Tor?”
His followers, except the gigantic goons flanking him - who continued to bore their dead, grey eyes into my forehead - all turned to look at their master.
“I want what we all want, Quigg: respect. That and power. And all the riches in the universe. And, since we’ve been so disrespected by the so-called Federated Republic, we are taking this opportunity to declare war upon it and it’s allies. The Commorium are, unfortunately for them, merely the first in our sights. Very much a case of ‘wrong place, wrong time.’
The joke bombed. San Rafael Tor shuffled in his seat as the crowd murmured incomprehensibly.
“For the people out there wondering why you feel disrespected, what would you say?” And here I played the devils advocate, through fear of getting my head vaporized. “You see, some of our readers are simple folk and don’t know much about your group except what they see in the news.”
For a moment, I thought I’d pushed it too far. But his ego bit, luckily for me.
“Since your Commorium audience is too feeble minded to understand, I’ll spell it out. Our group are made up of a number of ex-military who were treated like gogg kakk by the powers that be. The Federated Republic has no respect for those who lay down their lives for its corrupt cause let alone its people. Those soldiers who have seen the light and the lies defected. Some scratched out a living as mercenaries. But a great number of them wanted to form a new kind of army to throw the Federated Republic into disarray, systematically dismantling its member planets, one by one.”
A few of the living statues saluted like goggs begging for food.
“If I could ask you one, final question…”
“Make it fast, Quigg, we have pillaging to do.”
“That leads me right into my final question: what’s next for you?”
“That’s an easy one. Bit of a novice are we, Quigg?
|The Bomber that San Rafael Tor is believed to pilot.|
“People of Commorium, hear this: we have only just begun. Nothing personal. You are simply in our way. Look on the bright side; you will go down in history as the first planet we will demolish and transform into a revolutionary, new world; one where cities will rise up, producing armies that will expand and move on to bombard new worlds. Under my leadership, this group of undervalued warriors will become generals, presidents and diplomats. Together, we will carve up this galaxy! VOTE: SAN RAFEAL TOR FOR NEW LEADER OF THE FEDERATED REPUBLIC!”
And, almost before the end of the word ‘REPUBLIC!’, his guards encircled him, blocking my view.
Then I felt a hard impact on my jaw and the lights went out.
I woke up in a transport outside Commorium Info Feed Corp HQ with a note stuffed into my hand.
‘Describe me as tall, intimidating and with an evil, magnetic charisma…or you’re dust.
Truth or dust